


Sparks of Life

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jazz dies, the Autobots remember him fondly. Sam Witwicky doesn't have memories to share, but he does have questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cher

 

 

In the days after the final battle, Sam felt unhinged with relief, overwhelmed with it; the world was safe, he'd been instrumental in the saving of it-- he got the girl, he got the car, he got the incredible robot friends, and he got some really cool battle scars, too. All in all, he was pretty sure that he won.

The incredible robot friends, though, they weren't entirely relieved. Sam wasn't sure how he realized that the Autobots were ill at ease, in a whole different way than the oh-crap-we-need-to-save-the-humans manner, but he figured they weren't that much different from people, just... well, metal, and not so much with the facial expressions really, but they had hope and fear and amusement and senses of humor, which made them possibly more human than some of the teachers Sam had to deal with.

Sorrow, it seemed, was a universal emotion.

It was cool having a car that could drive himself; Sam still protested when Bumblebee took him the wrong way after dropping Mikaela home for the night. "Come on, I still have a curfew, you know. I have to get home."

"Your parents will forgive you, Sam," Bumblebee said placidly, "and tonight we honor the memory of our fallen friend. Please, sit with us a while."

"Oh... okay, when you put it that way." Relaxing back into the driver's seat, Sam stared out the window, mind racing. What did one say at a robot funeral? He hadn't known Jazz very well, but it had been his sacrifice that gave Sam the time to make away with the Cube. That, and his sense of style, were all Sam really had to go on.

He didn't need to worry. The Autobots had met up on a hillside, sprawled in a loose circle around an electrical substation; Sam ended up sitting on the grass between Optimus Prime and Bumblebee, listening as the 'bots traded memories of Jazz, the dangerous missions he had pulled through by the thinnest wire, his brilliantly unexpected strategies, and, yes, his impeccable style. In the space between huge mechanical bodies, Sam felt warm-- not just from heat output, but from the realization that the Autobots were even more the same than he'd realized. The friendly affection between them, teasing and joking around; the solemnity of their recollections that brightened into laughter with certain memories; even the way Rachet kept sneaking power off the substation-- "The tingly feeling is cool," he explained when Bumblebee asked him what that was all about-- Sam had been to one wake like this, after a kid he'd known had died in a car crash, and the mixture of mourning and comfort and surreptitious intoxication was familiar, shockingly human in his opinion.

But then, humans hadn't been the first ones in the universe, not even close to it.

After a while, silence came over the group, no more sound than the hum of power through the substation and through the Autobots themselves. In the quiet, Sam felt like he could ask the question that had been rolling around his mind, if he could only word it right.

"Hey, Optimus Prime... we're not the only sentient beings in the universe, are we? People and 'bots? Good and evil as, uh, universal forces... okay, I think the question I'm getting at is, what's the point of all this?" He waved up at the sky, a general all-encompassing motion, and felt himself flush as the leader of the Autobots turned an inscrutable gaze on him.

"Sam Witwicky," Optimus Prime said gravely, "are you asking me if I know the meaning of life?"

"I guess that's what I want to know, yeah," Sam said, "I mean, you guys have been around a lot longer than humans... you've had time to think it over, right?" On the other side of the power station, Ratchet laughed, a sound that rose and fell like a siren, and Ironhide made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a mocking snort.

"But we found the answer here." Sam looked up at Optimus, mouth falling open with shock. "Do you think he can bear to know it, Bumblebee?" The yellow and black Autobot, stretched out on his back and scanning the stars, reacted thoughtlessly in the way he'd been used to communicating on Earth, tuning into a radio station.

" _Listen, do you want to know a secret? Do you promise not to tell?_ " Sam smacked the nearest part of Bumblebee he could reach, then rubbed his hand wryly-- hitting the robot, dumb idea.

"Come on, tell me! I can handle it," Sam insisted, "Seriously, unless you think it's so complex it'll blow my little human mind..."

"The answer to life, the universe, everything?"

" _Yes!_ What is it?"

"It's 42," Optimus said simply. For a moment, Sam stared, absolutely gobsmacked.

"42?" he repeated. "The number? Four two? Two times twenty-one?"

"That's the one," Bumblebee agreed brightly. "101010 in binary."

"2A in hexadecimal. I like hexadecimal," Ratchet said dreamily.

"No more free electricity for you," Ironhide grumbled, pushing Ratchet away from the substation. "You're going to burn out."

"Oh my god." Sam shook his head, sitting back down with a thump. "Oh, my god. First, you guys should not be allowed on the internet, second, is Ratchet _drunk_?"

"We are not equipped to process biofuel." Optimus watched Ironhide and Ratchet tussle on the other side of the substation, clearly amused. "But he does seem to be intoxicated, yes."

"This is insane," Sam muttered to himself, and Bumblebee laughed beside him.

"Sam, if we knew the meaning of existence, we would share it with you. We only have what we believe to be true." Bumblebee mimicked Sam's earlier motion, a wave drawing an arc through the sky full of stars. "All Sparks come from and return to the Allspark."

"You mean the Cube? But I shoved that into Megatron--"

"It isn't the same thing," Optimus Prime said, suddenly serious. "I have learned much about Earth culture since we arrived here. The Allspark is similar to your idea of Heaven, in a way."

"All good 'bots go to the Allspark?" Sam joked uncertainly.

"All bots, good or bad." Optimus Prime paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, and Bumblebee stepped in.

"What would happen, Sam, if someone took your soul from your body?"

"Uh... I don't know," Sam answered blankly. "I'd probably... be braindead, I guess." Bumblebee nodded.

"Jazz could have been repaired. But his Spark was lost, and without the Spark, there is no life." Very, very carefully, Bumblebee poked one finger at Sam's chest. "We know where our souls lie. Human bodies are so confusing... there is nothing simple about them."

"Well, you're not exactly a Lego set," Sam shot back, defensive on behalf of his species; the momentary indignation faded as he considered what Bumblebee had said. "So... do you think maybe Sparks and souls all go to the same place?"

"One day, we will find out," Optimus Prime replied.

"That day may be today, for you, Sam," Bumblebee said suddenly, moving back before transforming into his Camaro form. Sam leaned in to peer at the dashboard clock.

"Oh shit, my parents are going to _kill_ me," he howled, hopping into the driver's seat. "See you guys later! You can't fly, can you, 'Bee?" The swift yellow-and-black car tore off down the hillside, and Optimus Prime sat and watched the night sky, letting himself wonder about the afterlife, the brilliant, bright stream of energy and knowledge that he knew existed, and whether that shining river might contain more than the life which originated on Cybertron.

 


End file.
